


I'm Not a Robot

by KrystalM



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Best player John, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Football Captain John, Football teammate Sherlock, Football | Soccer, Friends to Lovers, Jock John, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Teen John Watson, Teen Romance, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock, Worst player Sherlock, quiet Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrystalM/pseuds/KrystalM
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a sixteen year old genius who's in senior year high school; invisible, not cared for by many and oh, he's also on the football team--as the worst player in the team. Sherlock doesn't care about all of those however and escapes to his sanctuary in the abandoned wing of the school, where he sits in a room he found by accident one day and watches the dancing school students next door through a one way-mirror. Dancing ballet, the only thing Sherlock felt passionate about besides Chemistry. The only thing dear to his heart. That is until the school's most popular boy and captain of the football team followed Sherlock one day after too many misses of football practise lessons to find about his secret sanctuary. Here begins a friendship between Sherlock and John that begins with curiosity and uncertainty before it revolves into something bigger, selfless and romantic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine!  
> A/N: Hey guys! So, who's excited for season 4? I am! I was just bored and decided to try and write a teenlock story. I always wanted to experiment this AU in Sherlock fandom and I know it's been said and done before, but still. I decided to incorporate the basics of what I see in the fandom like the ballet thing for Sherlock and the sports thing for John. Only that I decided to make John play football--not the American kind! You know, uhm, soccer is it for the Americans?? Okay, so anyways, it's just a short first chapter, testing the waters kinda thing, so enjoy!
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought! Give this story kudos if you liked it and I'll see you guys in the next chapter if you guys want me to continue~! -Krystal

 

 

Sherlock clutched the shoulder strap of his bag tight as he walked through the crowd. He kept his eyes down, watching where he walked. The crowd slowly started to thin the further he walked. He turned a corner and climbed up the stairs, the loud murmurs of the students started to fade away the higher he climbed. He stopped walking when he reached the top of the stairs, taking in a deep breath. 

He sighed in relief when he saw the empty hallway in front of him, greeting him back with silence. He continued his walk, walking past the empty classrooms and abandoned labs until he reached another corner. He finally spotted the familiar room and got in, closing the door tight behind him.

There, in front of him, was a large one-way mirror. It covered the entire wall and he was at the see-through side of this mirror. In front of him, separated by this thin piece of glass, were a few students, dressed in tights and leotards. 

He took in a deep breath as he sat in the middle of this empty room. He clutched his bag tight in his hands as he watched the dancers stretch, ready for their lesson for the day. Sherlock held his breath when more students started to flood the dance studio, all wearing the same type of clothes; men with tights and the women with their own leotards or tights. 

Sherlock found their dancing always so mesmerising. It was filled with grace, such delicate moves that it made them look majestic at times. Sherlock sometimes wanted to march over to their dancing studio and dance as well.

But that was just a dream he didn’t want to go near at. This need to step on the dance floor and move with the gentle music was all about feeling things and Sherlock, despite him being smarter than most of his peers his age until he was booted to senior year even if he was only sixteen, was never good at feeling things.

His heart was cold and it wasn’t anybody’s fault really. He just liked it better when he didn’t have to feel anything. That was until he came across this secret hideaway to the dancing school next door. Now, he was feeling something—but it still wasn’t enough for him to really pursue this sudden interest of his. 

Mycroft would tut at him if he found out and the last thing he wanted was his brother mocking him. A distant sound of the bell ringing caught his attention. He sighed as he stood up, taking his bag and glancing through the mirror at them dancing one last time before he walked out of the room. 

He walked to his class, Chemistry, and got into the lab. He immediately walked to the back of the lab and sat down at the right, next to a window. Everybody else started to fill in the empty space. Sherlock counted until ten before he spotted the familiar mop of blond hair and bright blue eyes entering the class. 

The blond boy walked into the lab with his other two friends, if Sherlock remembered, Molly and Gavin. Sherlock really wasn’t sure about the last name though, he distinctively remembered his name starting with a G but he never really was interested in knowing the boy’s name so he ended up calling the grey-haired boy; Gavin. 

As long as he never speak to them, it was fine if he called him Gavin in his head. Sherlock looked for a few more seconds as the blond boy took a seat right in front of him with his own lab partner, Mike. Sherlock didn’t have a lab partner due to the odd number in the classroom after one of them transferred school in the beginning of the year. 

Nobody wanted to sit next to Sherlock anyway and he didn’t mind. 

Sherlock liked his personal space and he didn’t have to offend anybody. It was a win-win situation and he wasn’t complaining one bit. That was, until John Watson, the school’s most popular boy, managed to catch his attention. Sherlock had deduced him the minute he had transferred to this school. 

He knew John Watson didn’t come from a family of wealth, instead, was here because of the school’s scholarship programs. He was also very active in sports judging from the way he was physically built. Despite being shorter than Sherlock by a few inches, John held himself strong and confident, always so talkative and caring, never to bully, never to mock—in other words; a complete opposite of Sherlock. 

In fact, John Watson was pretty smart. He wasn’t a total idiot like the rest of them here. Sherlock found him—intriguing. But just like everyone else, John Watson did not see him. Sherlock was still invisible to his eyes just like he was invisible to others. 

For the first time in his life, Sherlock actually had an urge to go up to John and say hello and it immediately repulsed him at how he was acting. However, John had acquired friends easily on the first day itself and Sherlock was not needed. So, he never went near John.

Even if he couldn’t escape him. 

Especially when John was also the captain of the football team after the previous football captain finished his senior year here. Sherlock, was also on the football team and he was the worst player there. 

He was only on the team because of bloody Mycroft. His brother had helped the school out when it was at the brink of bankruptcy. To return the favour, Sherlock was on the team. It was easy to say, Sherlock hated football—the game, the workouts, the people. He hated everything about it and almost all the time skips the practise to sneak into the room where he would watch the ballet dancers dance. 

John never acknowledged him and since Sherlock was rarely ever there for practise and even if he was, he would be a reserve, Sherlock never caught the blond’s eyes. 

How pathetic—mulling over someone like this. 

He opened his bag and began to pull out his textbook even though he had no intention to pay attention in class. Instead, he would just start to deduce which part of the textbook that was wrong and correct them with his red pen on the textbook. Just as he was about to do that, a hand landed in front of him, thumping loudly on the lab table. 

Sherlock didn’t startle, he never did, instead, he cooly stared at the hand before he looked at the person who the hand belonged to. He froze when his eyes met the bright blue ones. John Watson was standing in front of him, a curious look on his face. Sherlock just blinked, wondering if he was imagining this.

Of course not, Sherlock scolded himself just as the thought entered his mind. He leaned back from the table and composed his face, careful to not let John see the bewilderment running in his eyes. “Can I help you?” Sherlock asked, feigning boredom. 

John raised his eyebrows for a second before he grinned, taking Sherlock off guard with that friendly face. “Yeah, actually,” John said as he tilted his head to the side a bit. “You could help me by coming to practise today.”

Sherlock immediately scowled at the mention of football. He decided not to pay anymore attention to John after realising that the blond only wanted him to come so it looked like he was a good captain. He waved his hand, non-verbally asking him to leave. 

Sherlock was taken off guard once more when John grabbed his wrist, not tightly, just enough for Sherlock unable to ignore the warmth that was circling his thin wrist. He tensed and snatched his hand away from John, glaring at the blond. “What?” he barked. 

“Come to practise,” Johns said. “You’ve been missing too many practise sessions. Even reserves need practise.”

Sherlock scoffed at that. “If you’re quite down with your philosophy of a good captain, you can leave,” Sherlock snapped. John’s eyebrows once again lifted. 

“Philosophy of a good captain?” he asked but Sherlock suspected that John found his annoyance funny. 

“Yes, you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, John Watson?” Sherlock asked, irritated now. “You’re making sure you’ll not get blamed for my absence. But I assure you, you’ve done your best to convince me to come to practise and I ignored you. You don’t have to worry about your position being threatened. You may leave me alone now.”

John blinked at him for a second before he rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay,” John said with a sigh before he went back to his seat. Sherlock bit his inner cheek from throwing something in fit frustration. He took it all back, John Watson was just like everyone else, only thinking about themselves. 

He sighed to himself as he went back to correcting his textbook. He knew it was illogical for John to start taking interest in Sherlock. It was a good thing Sherlock shut him down because it wouldn’t do him any good to talk to the blond. His intentions to talk to him were just for the captaincy.

 

***

 

After class, Sherlock gathered his things and walked out of the lab. It was finally after-school hours and everyone was rushing to get to their club activities. Sherlock started on his path back to the only place he would rather be at without actually skipping school. He walked down the familiar path and head up the stairs. 

When he reached the silent hallway, he breathed out, relaxed. He always felt better when he didn’t have to mix around with people, even if he never acknowledged them or vice versa. Sherlock found the room again and opened the door, walking inside. He closed the door and glanced at the one-way mirror, noticing that they had begun to start training. 

Sherlock catalogued their movement and once again was mesmerised with the way they coordinated and moved. Even if they did mess up here and there, it was still graceful. It made Sherlock feel things he had never been able to feel properly before. He bit his lip as he took off his school shoes and tossed them near the door with his bag.

He stripped off his school jacket as well, taking off his tie along the way, stashing them away where his bag was and unbuttoning his sleeves. He rolled the sleeves to his elbows and tugged open the first two buttons off. He had this idea for a while now, to maybe try and dance behind this one-way mirror. Even if he never will get to dance for real like how he was craving lately, maybe this would satisfy his curiosity and want for a little while. 

Sherlock stretched, trying his best not to sprain any part of his body. He knew he was flexible enough for ballet. He just never used that knowledge for his own use until now. With a deep breath, he looked at how the dancers moved and started to copy them. 

It hurt his feet especially when he couldn’t really tip his toes properly due to the lack of the ballet shoes but he made do. Sherlock actually liked it, he liked the way the moves made him feel graceful even though he was pretty sure he looked like a mess right now. 

He felt lost in the music and for the first time in a really long time, he felt relieved to be in his own skin. He kept on trying his best to follow the music and movements. Sometimes, he would almost trip and fall but Sherlock didn’t want to quit. He kept at it, even if he knew his posture was all wrong. He did his best to correct it himself. 

He was so into his self-teaching that he was startled when the door creaked open. In his shock, he tripped over nothing and fell on his back. He looked at the doorway, his cheeks reddening when he noticed it was John, looking back at him with wide eyes and mouth hanging open. 

Silence rang loudly between them as Sherlock stared at the blond. John was staring right back at him, both sporting shocked looks on their faces. A million questions started to run through Sherlock’s head and he couldn’t find enough energy to actually focus on one question at a time. 

That was until John started to blink and compose himself that Sherlock realised that he was caught. Like some child, he was caught. Irritation replaced confusion and he sharpened his eyes at the blond boy. When he realised John was just standing there, not saying anything, he sneered. 

Oh for the love of—

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” Sherlock hissed, embarrassed. He was breathing slightly harder from the exertion as well, making him look like a wet dog, from the sweat and panting. 

“Uhm,” John started, he took a step further inside. He looked away from Sherlock to the one-way mirror, looking at the dancers dance. Sherlock scrambled to stand and glared at the blond boy. 

“I asked you a question,” Sherlock snapped, feeling like he was being judged. He hated that feeling. It was enough Mycroft was giving him those eyes every time he returned home from wherever he went. He didn’t wan that look being aimed at him here too. John immediately looked at him and gave him a smile, a cautious one. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at that. 

“So,” John started before he cleared his throat. He then vaguely gestured to the one-way mirror with his hands. “This is where you go every time you skip practise, huh?”

Sherlock felt a cold shudder running down his spine. This was going to make him look even more freakish in front of everyone else. It wasn’t like he cared per se what they said but it didn’t mean sometimes it didn’t hurt what they clearly thought about him. Especially when he was the only sixteen year old in the bunch of eighteen year olds. 

Was John going to be one of them who was going to take even this away from Sherlock? John’s expression softened before he smiled warmly. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, okay?”

“ _Get out_ ,” Sherlock said, startling John. “Why are you here? _How_ are you here? Get out!”

“Hey,” John said slowly, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s alright. I was just curious as to where you go every time you skip practise.”

Sherlock scowled at him, suspicious of John. “You will get out and _never_ tell anyone about this place, do you understand me?”

John nodded, seriously. Sherlock deduced him immediately, and he was surprised a second to find John meant it. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said before he licked his lips and grinned. “So, ballet?”

Sherlock huffed out loud and rolled his eyes. He walked to where his bag was and took it along with his discarded jacket and tie. He then shove his feet into the shoes, not bothering with wearing it properly and pushed past John to get out of the room. “Piss off.”

He heard John chuckling under his breath but Sherlock just wanted to get out of there. He heard soft footsteps echoing in the hallway behind him. Sherlock quickened his pace and jogged away from John. He didn’t even stop when he heard his name being called, knowing it was the captain trying to catch up to him. Sherlock ran away from John, just exiting the school compound, breathing hard. 

Even though he wanted to believe John, he just didn't want put his trust on someone he wasn’t sure of and even though John sounded nice enough for him to want to put a trust on, he just found out about Sherlock’s biggest secret and caught red-handed dancing. 

So, Sherlock thought it was logical to keep his distance from John. Maybe he even had to find another place for his secret hideaway. His heart ached at the thought of not having to see the room again. He sighed as he slowed his pace into a walk. 

 


End file.
